


suspirium

by juniees



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, ishihime but make it domesticated, ishihime week 2020, orihime realizing things, uryuu being the only man ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24904969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniees/pseuds/juniees
Summary: in the deep crest of the night, orihime watches her beloved sleep.(written for the prompt “craftwork” for ishihime week 2020)
Relationships: Inoue Orihime/Ishida Uryuu
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19
Collections: IshiHime Week 2020





	suspirium

_as for lovers, they are discovering_

_new ways to love. listen, their windows are open._

_you can hear them laughing._

mary oliver, **late spring**

.

.

.

In the deep crest of night, Orihime watches her beloved sleep.

The moonlight slips through the curtains, highlighting his pointed chin—the slim bridge of his nose and a smooth brow. 

She wants to trace the shapes, to possibly stir him from his slumber so she can see that sleepy smile of his that she adores. 

But Orihime knows that he is tired. He had a long day of classes and will have to be up early again tomorrow for work. 

She’s content just to have him like this, an open canvas for her to marvel at.

The steady thrum of her heartbeat aligns with the rhythmic inhale-exhale of his quiet breaths, and Orihime settles her head against the flat of his chest. 

She feels a hand come to rest on the dip of her back, “Uryuu-?”

“Good morning.”

She gives a laugh, “Morning? It’s hardly past midnight”

He wraps a strand of her auburn hair around his fingers like silk, “Which makes me wonder why you are awake?”

Orihime has never felt shy or timid around him, so when she says _you look beautiful when you sleep,_ there is no shortage of conviction nor bouts of embarrassment. 

He, however, cannot help the shy smile that pulls his cheeks. 

She presses a thumb to the corner of his mouth, _there,_ that’s the smile she was wishing for.

“You have the innate ability to make me flustered.” Uryuu says, not before bestowing a small kiss on the pad of her thumb. 

Orihime dimples at him, a little mischievous and very much in love and, “You just make the cutest faces when I do.”

Uryuu retaliates by hiding his face in his palms, scooting away from Orihime who laughs unabashedly with amusement. 

She tries to pry his hands from his face, but Uryuu is just as stubborn as she and can be just as playful, “I refuse to be a victim of your teasing Inoue-san.”

Orihime clamors her way on top of him, managing to pull away his hands only to replace them with hers. She presses soft palms onto each cheek and smushes his face. 

“Handsome.” She coos, leaning to kiss his puckered lips.

“You’re on thin ice.” Uryuu warns in muffled tones.

Orihime smiles and releases his face, brushing rouge strands of his blue ink hair from his brow. He smiles back, eyes alight and adoring and it sends a pang through her chest. 

Sometimes, Orihime looks at Uryuu (wonderful and gentle and understanding and so, _so_ kind Uryuu) and thinks herself a fool.

A blind fool.

A silly little girl, turned horrible by silly little fantasies. 

And it was all because she wanted someone so bad that everything else became blurred and broken.

She had fallen in love with Kurosaki-kun so quickly, spurred on by adolescent daydreams and fairytale like infatuation. She had put a boy she hardly understood on an altar and made him her god. She took communion in his barely-there glances and worded formalities. She prayed upon a hope that maybe one day he’d see her, see her and treat her with the same tenderness as one black haired shinigami. 

Orihime would’ve given up everything she had for him. She would have laid waste to her one thousand dreams if he had beckoned it so. She would have lost  herself to find him.

She once read somewhere that no two loves are the same, and for that she is grateful.

With Uryuu it was different, _she_ was different.

It was not love at first sight, it was the slow burn of molding clay to sculpt something real—something tangible. It was lines and smudges, circles and squares connecting them as one. It was pieces meticulously sewn together to make something beautiful. 

It was craftwork.

It was a two man symphony (a push and pull, a give and take. A balance where no one was left wondering their place). 

It wasn’t the turbulent love affairs that she had filled her head with as a child, it was gentle and giving. It was Uryuu who took care to make her feel heard and seen. It was him swallowing down her outlandish recipes and praying to her brother’s memorial when he thought she wasn’t home. It was the way he held her after nightmares of black skies and bat wings shook her awake.

It was the way he loved her, all of her—even the pieces of herself that she so desperately wanted to hide because they weren’t _good._ He never pried, but always listened. Never reprimanded her, but helped her grow and be better. 

She just wishes it could have been this way sooner. If only she hadn’t been so— how could she make him wait so long ( _she doesn’t deserve him, she doesn’t deserve him, she doesn’t—_ )

“Hey.”

Uryuu smoothes his thumb over the apple of her cheek, a steady smile on his face, “I’m right here.”

_That’s right,_ Orihime thinks, he’s always been right there—whenever she’s needed him.

Uryuu somehow always knew when to let her fly amongst the daydreams and all the thoughts that live inside her. He also knew when to bring her back to Earth, when to keep her grounded and tethered to reality.

She holds Uryuu’s hand at her cheek, leaning into his touch.

“Uryuu,” Orihime murmurs, “Thank you.”

He smiles with understanding but tells her that she need not thank him for anything. 

She leans down, covering them both in a curtain of deep auburn, and kisses him with sweet tenderness. 

They smile into the kiss before pulling apart. Uryuu shifts so that Orihime is tucked against his chest, he wraps his arms around her and buries his nose against the crown of her head.

“Go to bed,” He murmurs into her hair, “I know you’re tired.”

Orihime yawns in agreement, eyes sliding shut and she feels so happy—so happy and safe and so, _so_ loved.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

> writing a non angst ishihime fic?? miss sera tonin has entered the chat.


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